No Sad Captains Allowed
by KLMeri
Summary: What better way to spend the holidays than avoiding everyone? Jim Kirk finds out quickly enough that being alone is not an option, not when Spock and McCoy are around to get under his skin. pre-K/S/M.


**Title**: No Sad Captains Allowed  
><strong>Author<strong>: klmeri  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Star Trek TOS  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 7075  
><strong>Summary<strong>: What better way to spend the holidays than avoiding everyone? Jim Kirk finds out quickly enough that being alone is not an option, not when Spock and McCoy are around to get under his skin.  
><strong>AN**: Gift as part of the McSpirk New Years Exchange challenge for **sbdrag**, who likes TOS, sick!Bones, just-getting-together McSpirk, holiday-unhappy-Kirk, and mistletoe. I hope I fulfilled some of your wishes, my friend!

* * *

><p>On the far side of the broad curved spaceport lounge, a man tipped a glass to his mouth and managed to finish his beer before he was jostled by a fresh wave of people eagerly trying to get at the bar. His plain clothes marked him as a civilian, which was belied by a stiff posture. A group of uniformed officers eyed the stranger's back from across the room, no doubt pondering the disguise. Had the haze of imported tobacco smoke, barely disturbed by the slow churn of archaic fans overhead, not obscured the man's features so well, he would have been instantly recognized. He was that famous among the space-farers of his time.<p>

A newcomer entered the lounge, picked out the stranger with ease, and went to him. "Is this seat taken?" he asked.

Jim Kirk lifted his bowed head. He didn't seem particularly upset to have his solitude disturbed. By way of greeting, he said, "What brings a man like you to a bar like this?"

The man in question filched an empty bar stool, tucked it between Kirk and the gelatinous mass of his neighbor. He sat down with a wink. "What else? The pretty girls."

Jim's chin dipped towards his chest as he cracked a smile. "There's always that." He lifted the tumbler in his right hand, having already had his fill for the evening but not opposed to sharing one more. "Want one?"

His friend signaled the bartender, then braced an arm against the edge of the bar. Adopting a curious incline to his head, he took his time studying Kirk.

Jim tapped a finger against a deep, knife-made groove in the countertop and waited for the inevitable barrage of questions.

But Leonard "Bones" McCoy surprised him by simply reaching out to give Jim's shoulder a friendly squeeze before facing away again and contemplating another subject, namely a shelf lined with liquor bottles from which to make a selection.

The tension in Jim eased. He rolled one shoulder, releasing a long breath. A comfortable silence settled between the men until the bartender appeared.

"I'll have what he's having," Leonard said first.

"And what am I having?" Jim asked mildly, quite familiar with this little quirk of McCoy's.

"Hm, something worthy of a celebration."

"Antarean brandy," Jim told the bartender, who nodded and left to fill the order.

Leonard whistled low. "You don't go cheap, do you, Jim?"

"I assumed you were paying."

They shared a laugh.

Jim sobered after a minute but his mood was vastly improved from that of a stranger brooding in the dark. Why, he thought, hadn't he invited Bones to join him sooner?

Leonard echoed that sentiment as if thinking the same thing. "If I'd known you were planning to spend the holidays like this, we could have teamed up."

Jim cut the man a sideways glance. "You too?"

Leonard gave a slight shrug. "It's not like we're on Earth, and I don't know a lot of folks out in this quadrant—at least, no one I would be willing to look up."

Jim nodded and offered up his empty glass when the bartender came back with a gourd-shaped bottle. The liquor was blue not unlike the color of Saurian brandy but the Antarean version had a distinctly different taste. Jim took a sip, then recoiled a little, since the brew was far tangier than he had anticipated. He decided it must be its young age.

McCoy, on the other hand, downed the stuff in one go and looked surprised afterwards that his glass hadn't contained more. Jim just shook his head and motioned for the bartender to give his friend a refill and leave the bottle with them.

"The whole thing?" Leonard sounded delight. "Why, Jim, thank you and Merry Christmas to me!"

"My pleasure," Jim replied, meaning it. One of his hands found Leonard's wrist and gave it a little squeeze. "I'd buy you a case for all that you've done for me this past year but," he tacked on a bit mischievously, "I'm in a position that I would have to report you for it."

"Oh, please," the doctor scoffed. "I've had a peek in that 'secret cabinet' Scotty installed in your quarters. A pot doesn't need to argue with a kettle about its color."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Bones. I follow every regulation required of a captain."

Leonard muttered something under his breath which Jim pretended he could not hear.

"So," Jim's friend went on to say after they both took another swallow of brandy, "what's on the agenda besides visiting every bar on the strip?"

"Who says I intended to do that?"

"Didn't you?"

Damn, caught. "I'm supporting the local business. It's charitable work."

"Tis the season," agreed McCoy, "but it sure sounds lonely. You could've invited Spock."

"Spock prefers to stay shipside. You know that, Bones."

"Do I?" questioned Leonard, looking thoughtful. "Seems to me when he's up there and you're down here, he may look busy but he's really preoccupied wondering what in the heck you're up to."

"That would be how you preoccupy yourself, not Spock."

"Hey, Spock and I think alike sometimes."

Jim laughed. "Now _that_," he emphasized, "is the only Christmas present I wanted this year. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would hear you say you think like a Vulcan!"

Leonard flushed. "I don't always think like Spock."

Jim continued to tease him. "You're full of surprises today, aren't you?"

"Jim, I was just making a point!"

Jim made a show of searching his pockets. "Now where did I put my comm?"

Leonard lunged over and caught Kirk by the wrist. "Don't you dare!"

He played innocence. "Dare to do what, Bones? Call up my First Officer and check on my ship?"

McCoy glared at him. "You're a devil, Jim Kirk, and you know it. The last thing I need is Spock and his smug face in my sickbay congratulating me on my graduation to a higher level of thinking. I'd have to avenge my honor, and then where would you be? I'll tell you where!" the man answered in the next breath. "You'll be less two senior officers!"

"That would be a shame indeed," agreed Jim, trying not to smile, "since I like you both."

Leonard flushed again and let go of Jim's wrist. With a harrumph, the doctor poured himself a third shot of brandy and downed it. "I'm not here to chitchat about that know-it-all anyway," he said a moment later. He pursed his mouth, as if deciding something, and began in a more somber tone, "Jim..."

That tone always inspired a sense of dread in Jim. It meant a serious conversation was imminent.

He said somewhat accusingly, "I thought you came to share a drink with me."

Leonard nodded and twisted his empty shot-glass around in his hands.

Jim watched him for a little while before pushing his own drink away and bracing his forearms against the counter.

"Spit it out, Bones," he said.

"I got a call yesterday." Leonard slanted a look at Kirk. "From Winona."

The shock of that name run through Jim—and made him tense all over again. "Why would my mother contact you?"

Leonard met Jim's suspicion with calm and had the gall not to answer the question directly. "Jim, she's worried. Apparently you didn't send your family the usual holiday greetings. I really like that woman and I hate to lie to her, but I did for your sake. I said you've been so busy lately you can't tell up from down, and it must have slipped your mind."

Jim locked his hands on the edge of the bar to keep from doing something he might regret.

Leonard gave him a knowing look. "You're angry."

"Very," Jim said flatly.

"Why?"

"What I do or don't do is my business—never mind the fact that making excuses for me is not your job." His agitation increased. "And why was my mother calling you?"

"That's unkind," Leonard said. "I talk to your parents all the time."

It might have been Jim's imagination but the bar seemed to rotate. "You _what?_"

Leonard pursed his mouth. "I said I talk to—"

"I heard you the first time, McCoy." Turning to fully face the man, he demanded, "Explain."

Leonard snorted and sat back. "Well, sorry, Jim. Who I talk to isn't your business."

Jim inhaled once, then exhaled noisily in a snort of his own. "All right," he conceded. "I deserved that."

"Darn right you did."

It was an old habit to rub the side of his thumb against his eyebrow when he felt unsettled. "Bones..." He couldn't think of what he wanted to say so he settled for "How long?"

"Since Deneva," Leonard remarked softly.

Jim looked away, then, and picked up his glass. Maybe he did need another shot of that brandy after all. Unfortunately, Bones had set it out of reach.

Jim thought on that realization for a second longer and concluded something he didn't like. "You already know, don't you?"

"I have a hunch but I can't say I know for certain unless you talk to me."

_And that's what this friendly run-in was about, wasn't it?_ concluded Jim.

Mood soured, he raised his hand to gain the attention of the bartender before digging around in a pocket for his credit chip. He said glumly, "If I wanted to see a shrink on my vacation, I would have made an appointment with one. Thanks for the company."

"Jim." Leonard put a restraining hand on Jim's shoulder to keep him seated. "I'm not here as your doctor."

"You could have fooled me." That was mean, but Jim had no desire to apologize for it. He offered the credit chip to the bartender for his tab, including the still mostly full bottle of Antarean brandy he had lost a taste for.

"Jim, I'm not trying to corner you. Sit down."

"I have somewhere to be."

"No, you don't."

"Enough, Bones," Jim said, exasperated. "There's nothing to talk about. Have a nice break. I'll see you at boarding."

"Take a look at yourself!" Leonard called to Jim's back as he was walking away. "Is your grief worth pushing away the ones who are still here?"

Jim didn't answer that. Couldn't.

Leave it to Bones to prod at his sorest spot. It was ironic, Jim realized, that he couldn't fault McCoy for it, despite how much he hated the tactic. The man would corner him eventually into spilling his guts, but it wouldn't be right now.

He kept walking, pretending that he did not hear his friend calling his name over the din of the bar. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a man in a dark uniform angling straight for him. At the last second, the fellow turned just enough that his shoulder deliberately aimed straight for Jim's. Jim neatly dodged the impact. He heard the man sputter and cry "Hey, you!" but getting into an altercation wasn't worth losing what little peace he had left to enjoy. He kept going.

Take a look at himself, Bones had said. Jim had done that many times over the last six months. What he had seen had been gruesome: one brother living, one brother dead. His sister-in-law, fighting to live but still dying.

And Peter, young Peter, now orphaned.

Truth be told, he had been relieved that the Enterprise wouldn't make orbit around Earth for the holidays. There was no courage in him to go home to where his parents and his nephew were waiting. He was a selfish man. He was too ashamed to explain that to anyone, even one of his closest companions.

Leonard McCoy—friend, doctor, or whatever he thought he was—would just have to wait a while longer.

* * *

><p>The bedside table's holographic display came alive and announced cheerfully that Jim had an incoming call. As he groaned beneath a heap of covers and snaked out a hand to fumble for his personal communicator, he regretted having linked the damn thing to the intercom unit instead of silencing it.<p>

The cheery display kept insisting that he pick up his incoming call, and so it was with the foul mood of a person who had intended to ignore the universe that Jim flipped open the comm and answered tersely, "What?"

He tacked on a belated, softer "Kirk here," realizing that the rough sound of his voice would only augment the impression of his temper. Because his stomach had been bothering him intermittently throughout the night, he had fallen into an exhausted sleep long after the chronometer indicated that a new solar-cycle had begun.

A level, familiar voice greeted him through the channel. "Captain, I apologize for the disturbance."

Jim sat up without thinking about it and drew a leg under him. "Spock?" His Vulcan First had no reason to be calling him unless... A dozen unpleasant scenarios flashed through Kirk's mind. "What's happened? My ship?"

He threw back his bedcovers to search for his pants.

"The Enterprise is quite well. The upgrades are nearly complete."

Jim froze in the act of shoving a foot through a leg-hole. He said more calmly but more intensely, "Then what's this about, Mr. Spock? I'm on vacation."

There was no need to be physically near Spock to know that the Vulcan had just raised his eyebrows. Jim heard it in the slight pause that came before Spock's reply.

"...Sir, I am well-aware of your current schedule."

Jim narrowed his eyes. Just how aware did Spock mean? Did he know that Jim had found an obscure little hostel in the waystation in which to hide from a certain meddlesome doctor?

"However, it would be prudent of you to return to the ship to undergo medical examination."

That was absurd! A little stomachache didn't—wait, Spock couldn't know about his stomachache.

Jim decided to play it cool. "You're joking with me."

"I assure you, Vulcans do not joke."

"I'm not sick." That was true. His stomachache was gone. "And I'm on vacation," he reiterated. How many times did he have to stress this one fact?

"I deduced the former in a matter of seconds, Captain. Regretfully, in an unfortunate turn of events, Dr. McCoy _has_ taken ill from something he imbibed while in your presence, and he claims you shared the substance with him. Therefore you are at risk. Coming from the Doctor, the argument is quite logical, which leads me to believe his condition is far worse than what was reported to me by the medical assistant on duty."

"Bones is sick?" Jim finished pulling on his pants and started to reach for a boot. "How bad?"

There came a rather unusually long pause. Then, "I am to inform you that he is in the throes of death."

Jim straightened up. "Is he there with you?"

"Technically, yes."

Spock's voice was overlaid by one that was infinitely crankier: "_Jim, don't leave me here to die with a Vulcan at my bedside. I need a warm, human hand, not these icicly appendages—_"

The voice switched to a chastising version of Spock's. "Doctor, this device is not a toy. You are feverish. Please remain still. I will relay your message to the Captain... _Doctor._" The Vulcan's voice had cracked. "You must let go of my hand."

Jim held the comm unit away from him and bit his lip over it for a long moment. Then he brought it close again. "Spock?"

"Captain?"

"Ready the transporter."

Spock's relief was evident in his "Aye, Captain."

Jim sighed, ended the call, and went in search of something more than pants to wear for his return to the Enterprise.

* * *

><p>Leonard McCoy jabbed his finger in the air and wagged his head back and forth against his pillow. "You!" he accused the approaching Kirk. "You did this to me!"<p>

Having completed his escort duty, Spock stood in the open archway to the recovery room looking like he longed to be elsewhere. Jim dismissed the commander with a wave, and Spock barely gave a nod in return before he took off for a different sector of the ship.

Jim had to wonder what Leonard had done to the Vulcan in the interim to cause him to flee so hastily.

"Hobgoblin. I was dyin'," grumbled the doctor nonsensically.

Jim came to a halt beside a biobed and gazed down at the peakish-looking man. "Bones," he said, both amused and irritated, "how much brandy did you have?"

Leonard made a face. "You bought it, not me." He rubbed a hand over his stomach and whimpered. "Why am I the only one suffering?"

Jim pulled up a chair. "Was it that bad?"

"I'll live," his friend said dully, "although for a while there it felt like I would have been better off dead."

Jim felt guilty.

Leonard's hand reached for him. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, Jim?"

"I do now. I went to bed with a stomachache," he admitted a few seconds later. "It cleared up." He had also had a migraine at the time but saw no point in mentioning that since part of the cause was sitting in front of him.

Leonard sighed and fidgeted with the blanket around his waist. His gaze skipped restlessly around the room.

"Do you need an attendant?" Jim asked, starting to get up to look for one.

The doctor dropped his voice to a whisper. "What I need is to get out of here."

Jim took a seat again and just looked at him.

"Jim," said Leonard with a hint of pleading, "help an old man out."

He sat back and crossed his arms. "Turnabout is fair play."

"That's different! Half the time you _need_ to be in here. I'm only a little dehydrated..." When Leonard saw that his argument hadn't budged Jim an inch, he relented. "All right. Fine. I'll give you a free pass for next time."

Jim lifted one hand and held up two fingers.

"Two?!" cried his friend, outraged. When someone stopped by the archway and poked her head into the room, Leonard instantly tried to appear weak and subdued.

Jim turned his head to the woman and said good-naturedly, "Hello there, Nurse. I think Dr. McCoy's ready for his next round of shots."

"_Jim!_"

Jim merely smiled and held up two fingers again.

McCoy hissed fiercely from between clenched teeth, "You're the Devil himself! _Two_ passes—but no more, and I have the right to say no if I think your life is in danger!"

"Deal," Jim agreed, holding out his hand to shake on it. "Now... how fast can you run?"

* * *

><p>Escaping from Sickbay was an ordeal when McCoy was thrown into the mix. He argued with every tactic Jim had, and he thought wearing a disguise was silly. Jim told him that in order to fool the natives, one had to <em>dress<em> like the natives. Leonard shoot back that they weren't on a mission to infiltrate a pre-warp society, and he was a doctor already for god's sake!

In the end, they managed to bungle their way to the outer doors of Sickbay and—in that moment having been spotted by a confounded M'Benga—bolted the rest of the way to the nearest turbolift. Leonard's legs gave out after that, and Jim had to cart him through the remaining corridors on his back.

"This is embarrassing," Leonard had said, both arms secured around Jim's neck.

"No, it's painful," Jim had panted in reply, because his back was reminding him that he wasn't a young man anymore.

It was closer to Jim's quarters than Leonard's and so that was where Jim went in short order, staggering to his couch to off-load his burden. When Jim was on his knees, clutching at his lower back and complaining, Leonard just poked him and said impishly, "We should do that again."

"Not unless I absolutely have to, Bones," agreed Jim, dragging himself onto the couch to sit beside McCoy. "You're a free man. Are you happy now?"

Leonard looked around. "So this is what it feels like to be an escapee." He returned his gaze to Jim. "I'm not feeling as euphoric as I should. Maybe that's because I didn't have a Vulcan partner-in-crime like you normally do."

"Spock is very handy at distracting you," Jim admitted.

Leonard's eyes lit up. "I knew it! Nobody wants to discuss in detail the possible side effects of the Rigellan pox vaccination! I thought he was humoring me because my research paper received an accolade."

"Oh, Spock was probably interested. He's Vulcan after all."

They chuckled and settled back against the couch together. Jim noticed that McCoy had tucked his hands between his knees, and he asked, concerned, "Are you cold?"

"Might be a little nippy in here."

Jim knew the temperature was on a normal setting but he asked the ship's computer to turn on the heat and retrieved a blanket from his bedroom. "You know," he said as he tucked it over Leonard's legs, "I'm still mad at you."

"Why?" Leonard wanted to know, eyes glinting with humor. "You're lucky I ran you off when I did, otherwise you might be the same condition."

"Good point." Jim sat down again. "What happened?"

"Oh, I finished another third of the bottle like an idiot and passed out at the bar. Since the bartender couldn't rouse me, he called the port authorities. I assume they identified me and called the ship." Leonard shook his head. "I'm sure Spock loved that: '_Your Chief Medical Officer's drunk. Come and get him._' I woke up to a case of induced vomiting. Apparently the toxicology report relayed something more worrying than a case of alcohol poisoning."

"I didn't think Antarean brandy was that rough on the human constitution."

"Shouldn't be," Leonard agreed, not adding anything further. "How about a game of chess?"

Jim studied the way the man's head kept nodding forward. "Why don't you rest in my room? I'll take the couch." He direly needed some sleep himself.

"Kickin' you outta your own bed... ain't right," murmured McCoy. "Share it?"

Jim huffed softly. "It's too small, Bones."

"Darn. So's the couch."

Jim slipped an arm around his friend's shoulders, intending to move him to the bedroom, when his door chimed.

Leonard blinked awake and craned his head around the back of the couch. When the chime sounded again, he said, "Oh no."

Jim was thinking the same thing. With a sigh, he stood up. "We can't avoid it. Computer, override lock."

The door peeled back, and the corridor lights cast a long, thin shadow in parade rest across the floor of the cabin. Spock entered, saying, "Captain..." and stopped short when he saw who was keeping Jim company.

"Hello there, Spock," greeted Leonard, like there was nothing at all wrong with the picture the two humans presented.

Spock rounded the couch to loom over the doctor.

"Cat got your tongue?" Leonard prompted when the Vulcan still failed to respond.

"Doctor."

"Spock." Clearly Leonard was up for the challenge of monosyllables.

Jim didn't know which one he wanted to chastise more. He settled on, "Bones."

Spock transferred a very judgmental stare to Jim. "Why is Dr. McCoy not in Sickbay?"

Huh, thought Jim. Why was Spock challenging _him?_

Leonard made a disrespectful noise. "Don't let him intimidate you, Jim. We knew he would disapprove."

Yes, Jim had seen Spock's disapproval often enough to recognize it but rarely was it aimed at him. He resisted the urge to fidget like a child who had been naughty.

"We..." He cast about for a reasonable excuse. "We were thinking that Bones would recover more comfortably in his own quarters. But of course—" he interrupted right before Spock could speak, "—I was adamant that he come here instead, so I can keep an eye on him."

Leonard was nodding along and even went so far as to drag the blanket covering his legs up to his chin and add, "I'm very comfortable."

Spock said nothing for a very long time.

Jim was about to offer a blustering apology when the Vulcan's shoulders came down a fraction and Spock decided, "Very well."

Leonard whooped.

Jim nearly rolled his eyes. "You're very energetic for a sick man, Bones."

"I'm a man who's grateful he isn't about to be thrown over a shoulder and carted back to Sickbay."

"I had no intention of placing you over my shoulder, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard lifted his eyebrows. "Then how would you have forced me to along? Bridal style?"

Jim bit back a laugh as Spock's ears took on a green tinge.

"Enough," he said when he saw that McCoy was about to make some other embarrassing quip. "Spock, we appreciate your concern. If you aren't busy, would you like to stay?"

Spock drew his hands from behind his back, revealing that in one of them he carried a carafe. Jim reached for it curiously.

But Spock did not let Jim have it. "You would not want to partake of this bottle's contents, Captain," Kirk was warned. "It contains what remains of the drink you shared last evening with Dr. McCoy. I have analyzed it."

Leonard sat forward. "It's a fake, isn't it? I knew it!"

"Not entirely, Doctor. It contains the main ingredients of Antarean brandy and was brewed accordingly. Otherwise I suspect your first taste would have been your last."

"They laced it, then," Jim surmised. "With what?"

"Tyramine, specifically."

"You're kidding," Leonard said, coming off the couch. His good humor had vanished. "Who puts tyramine in a drink?"

Jim looked between them. "What is it?"

Spock said, "A poisonous alkaloid," at the same Leonard replied, "Mistletoe."

Spock turned to Leonard with interest. "Mistletoe, Doctor?"

"I don't expect you would have heard of it, Spock. Mistletoe is a plant found on Earth. More importantly, it's toxic to humans if ingested."

"I just know I was told not to eat it as a child," Jim said.

Leonard crossed his arms. "There's a particular species which contains the chemical compound tyramine. Damn. I'm sure glad I didn't drink the _whole_ bottle. I would have been dead before anyone realized it."

Jim paled at the thought.

Spock said gravely, "That is precisely the reason why I have brought this to the Captain, Dr. McCoy. I would like to formally request an investigation."

Leonard pointed at the carafe. "And there's your probable cause."

"I'll open the official channels," Jim agreed with a nod. "I know someone who can look into the local distributors. There's no reason for us to go into this blind."

Spock handed Jim the carafe, and Jim placed it on the corner of his desk behind the partition. Leonard lowered himself back to the couch and drew the blanket back over his legs. He looked so suddenly tired that Jim had no doubt his bout of illness had truly taxed him.

_Death_, he thought again, and swallowed hard.

"Bones, lay down."

Leonard huffed. "Is that an order or a request?"

"An order from your concerned friend," Jim said. "Take a nap. I'm not going anywhere."

McCoy muttered something too low for Jim to hear but Spock did cock his head slightly. Then the Vulcan asked, "Would it be all right if I remained here?"

Jim blinked. "I don't see why not."

Spock gave Jim a pointed look that meant Jim was not quite following along. Jim just stared back, because he honestly did not know what else he was supposed to say.

"Perhaps you have a few things you would prefer to attend to, as this is your vacation, Captain," Spock remarked.

Wait, was he being kicked out of his own quarters?

Leonard, having stretched out as ordered, closed his eyes and mumbled from beneath the blanket.

Jim stared hard into Spock's face and, seeing nothing he could interpret, finally gave up. He attached his personal comm to his belt and said, "I'll come back after a meal. I skipped breakfast this morning."

"That would be wise," Spock replied.

Shaking his head, Jim left his Vulcan friend in charge of McCoy's naptime. Later, he would remember why it wasn't always a good thing to leave them alone together.

* * *

><p>The lights were dimmed when Jim returned, and for a second he thought his friends had deserted his quarters. Then he realized the computer system had simply engaged its energy-conservation mode when Jim's guests moved from the main cabin to the bedroom.<p>

The hushed quality of their voices drew Jim to that area. He did not know what to expect (having never anticipated Spock or McCoy would invite themselves there without permission) and dared not to expect _anything_ beyond an explanation.

Spying two familiar silhouettes backlit by a computer screen, Jim tested their names. ""Spock? Bones? What are you doing?"

"_Jimmy?_" a woman answered.

Jim recognized the voice instantly as his mother's.

Leonard twisted around to meet Jim's eyes but didn't say anything. He didn't need to because his silence said it all: that he knew what he had crossed a line and that he wasn't going to apologize for it.

Spock said, "A moment, please, Mrs. Kirk," before also turning in his chair to face Jim. He explained, "Dr. McCoy has introduced me to your mother, Captain."

Leonard cleared his throat and gave the Vulcan a nudge with his elbow.

Spock amended, "...Jim."

"_Jimmy, where are you? I can't see you._" Winona Kirk said. "_You have lovely friends!_"

Gritting his teeth, Jim came forward. "I'm not sure I would call them lovely," he replied in a dark voice.

"What Jim means to say is that we're handsome, not lovely, Winona," Leonard cut in, grinning. His blue eyes twinkled charmingly. "But then again, I imagine he's a _tad_ upset with us for chatting you up on his personal line."

Spock stared at his doctor companion. "You implied that Jim would appreciate our assistance in taking this call during his absence."

Leonard looked right back at the Vulcan, saying primly, "You know better than to trust anything a human tells you, Spock."

Spock's mouth clicked shut.

It was Winona who let out a peal of laughter. "_Adorable,_" she said, "_the both of them! Oh, Jimmy, why the long face?_"

Jim schooled his expression into something less petulant. "Mom, I had no idea you were acquainted with my chief medical officer."

"_It's a shame I had to introduce myself, Jimmy. You promised to bring him by for a visit ages ago._"

"Really now?" questioned Leonard.

This conversation was rapidly getting out of hand. Jim had to take charge before something worse happened, like his mother calling his father out of his study so they could tell the story of the time he jumped off the barn roof to see if he could fly. Worse yet, there were tales of his teenage years that he had painstakingly tried to bury. Unfortunately parents had memories longer than elephants.

He laid a hand first on Leonard's shoulder and then on Spock's. "Thank you for entertaining my mother. I'll take it from here."

Spock immediately stood up.

Leonard was slower to accept the dismissal. "Be nice to your mother, Jim," he warned Kirk.

Bones should be worrying about whether or not Jim was going to be nice to him after this was over.

He just gave a sharp nod and took a seat in Leonard's vacated chair. He didn't say a word until Leonard and Spock were out of sight. Then he drew a breath.

"_Jim,_" his mother started in on him, all traces of her teasing mood gone, "_what's the matter?_"

Jim almost said nothing, but the look on his mother's face was a warning not to lie. "How's Peter?" he asked.

Her expression softened. "_Oh, Jim,_," she said. "_He misses you._"

Jim felt his grief fill him anew and worked to keep his voice level. "I miss him, too," he said. "Is Dad home?"

"Probably out in the barn tinkering with that vintage hover car you bought him. He's the one who retired, yet _I_ am the one going stir-crazy. Should I get him for you?"

"Please," Jim said. "You asked me to make a decision about Peter, and I have. We should discuss it, all of us."

"Hold on, dear," Winona replied, and Jim did.

He held on to the last shreds of his courage, knowing that by the end of transmission his parents would surely hate him.

* * *

><p>Jim must have looked drained when he re-entered the main cabin because Leonard and Spock ceased their quiet conversation and came over to him.<p>

"Jim?" Leonard said his name with concern.

"You always know how to force things, don't you, Bones?" Jim said, but there was no lingering animosity in his tone. He was too tired to deal with a strong emotion like anger. He had a headache, too.

Leonard stepped closer. "Was it as bad as you feared?"

"No," he admitted. "They acted like they already knew."

"I'm sure they did," his friend replied softly. "They're your parents, Jim. They know you better than anyone in the galaxy."

"Apparently they didn't raise me to be better," he said bitterly. He started towards the built-in counter under his bookcase and the 'secret' cabinet therein that housed his expensive bottles of liquor but stopped short, remembering that his and McCoy's recent experience with alcohol had not been a good one. He raked a hand through his hair, feeling at loss about what to do next and hating it.

"Spock," Leonard said.

Spock nodded ever-so-slightly and disappeared into Jim's bedroom.

Leonard took Jim by a shoulder and led him to the couch.

"You didn't take your nap, Bones," Jim said inanely as he dropped down to sit and braced his arms against his knees.

"I've been too keyed up to relax." He cut a sideways glance at Jim. "Seems you've had the same problem."

Jim pressed his lips into a thin smile. "Sometimes I think you're a better mind-reader than Spock."

"Nope, just a doctor with access to the sleep cycles of his patients."

"Do you honestly monitor my vitals that closely?"

"I'm required to. You're the captain." McCoy leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "If it's any consolation, I keep tabs on Spock too, except usually I can't make heads or tails of his statistics. Damned complex Vulcan biology."

"Why thank you, Dr. McCoy," Spock said, coming back into the room with a tray in hand.

Jim smiled when he realized Spock had brought three steaming mugs of tea. Leonard and Jim stayed on the couch and Spock took a chair.

"Want to talk about it?" Jim was asked once they all had had a moment to savor the hot tea.

"Do I have a choice?" Jim asked dryly.

"We are always here to listen should you wish to share a concern," came Spock's earnest reply.

"He means we're here listening now, so get with the program."

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "Doctor, why do you feel it necessary to interpret my words?"

Leonard shot back, "Because not all of us speak computer!"

"Interesting. I was not aware that you were so well-trained."

"Why you green-blooded—"

"Gentlemen," Jim broke in, grateful that the atmosphere had returned to normal. "If you will pause a moment so that you might hear others, I do have something to say." He hesitated, then went straight for the bald truth. "I am not going to raise Peter."

The silence that enveloped the room made Jim wonder if Spock and McCoy decided to take his answer differently than his parents. Why their opinions mattered just as much as his parents' did, he didn't know, but doubt crept in and that called forth the buried shame.

"It's... it's not that I think my career is more important than my nephew..." he began to fumble.

"Jim," Leonard interrupted, "you don't have to explain."

"You may not understand, Bones."

"Who says we don't?" Leonard snuck a look at Spock. "It's a relief for us, to be honest. We don't want to lose you as a captain, and a starship is no place to raise a kid."

"I do want a family," Jim said, curling his fingers around his cup, "but I'm not the kind of family that Peter needs right now... not beyond an uncle, anyway. I can't replace my brother."

"You shouldn't try. The boy needs a father figure, but he doesn't need or likely want a new father." Leonard laid a hand on Jim's knee. "Jim, there's nothing keeping you from being close to your nephew—not even a career in space."

Jim smiled a little. "He wants to be a scientist like his parents. I haven't been able to persuade him to consider Command."

"Science is commendable," Spock said.

And just like that, the worst of his confession was over. He looked into the faces of the two men with him and saw no judgment. Perhaps he should tell them that one of his reasons for choosing to stay for the full five-year mission was that he already had family he could not leave behind. Bones and Spock were like his heart and his mind: to be without them would be a rough existence.

He might tell them that someday. For now, it was enough to sit with them and drink tea, and to return to feeling like a man he wanted to be.

* * *

><p><em>When the end is just the beginning - i.e., two weeks later<em>

Several days following the crew's return from vacation and the day before the Enterprise set a course for her next mission, James T. Kirk and Leonard McCoy were called to the First Officer's quarters. Neither of them could figure out why and said as much to each other when they both arrived outside Spock's cabin door.

"This isn't about that mess on the space port, is it?"

"Can't be," said Jim. "We confiscated the entire bar stock and handed over the owner to local merchants' guild for reprimand."

"Only an idiot believes a man selling snake oil," Leonard said in disgust. "I can't believe he was purchasing his inventory at half price and didn't ask for an authorized distribution license or certificates of origin! Somebody could have died, Jim, because of that man's incompetence."

"The owner will make his reparations, and he'll never be licensed to sell goods to the public again." Jim rubbed his chin. "He said the seller went by the alias Fenton, didn't he? That sounds familiar."

"Oh, how I'd like to get my hands on that one too!"

"Another day, another time," Jim assured the man, stepping forward to press the door chime.

The door slid back to admit them to Spock's quarters.

Jim took the lead, calling ahead, "Spock?"

Seated with his arms crossed, Spock pivoted away from his computer screen to greet his visitors. "Good evening, Captain. Dr. McCoy. There is something I wish for you to see."

Jim assumed it was on the computer since Spock hadn't stood up and come towards him. But oddly, as Jim crossed the threshold from main cabin to office area, Spock said, "That is far enough."

Confused, Jim stopped where he was. "What's going on?"

"Yeah, Spock, what's this about? I wasn't done with my inventory count..." Leonard's voice died all of a sudden, then came back with a vengeance. "_Jim_," he hissed.

Jim ignored him. There was something off about the Vulcan, enough to start a slight _red alert_ at the back of his neck. "Is this official or unofficial business?" he asked warily.

Spock hardly blinked. "Unofficial."

"Jim!" Leonard tugged on Jim's sleeve repeatedly until he gained the man's attention.

"What, Bones, what?"

Leonard pointed above them.

Jim looked up—and his mouth dropped open.

"Uh-oh," said Leonard.

_Big uh-oh_, Jim thought.

Spock, who had hither-to appeared exceptionally stone-faced, suddenly gained a perfectly readable expression. "That is mistletoe, gentlemen," he told him.

A bead of sweat gathered at Jim's temple.

Leonard looked incredulous. "We know what it is, Spock, but why the heck is it _right there?_"

Spock lifted one well-shaped eyebrow. "One might call it retribution, Doctor."

Leonard's eyes bugged. "What?"

Jim couldn't move away, obviously, with Leonard holding him firmly in place by his sleeve. "Bones..." He tugged twice at the collar to his gold tunic.

"Hold on a second, Jim. What do you mean by 'retribution'?" the doctor demanded.

"Retribution, Dr. McCoy, for an incident in Sickbay which was inflicted upon me without my permission. Given the... tradition which you humans attribute to the presence of this particular plant, I believe the debt will be most satisfactorily repaid."

"You're saying you put it there on purpose? Why would you—but you called us here—" Leonard sucked in a breath and turned to stare at Jim as the full meaning of what was required of them dawned on him. "Dear god. The Vulcan has lost his mind!"

Jim, now uncomfortably flushed, tried to sidle away, and immediately Spock's gaze fixed upon him.

"Captain, there is nowhere for you to go. The fact remains: you have stepped under a sprig of mistletoe with Dr. McCoy, however unwittingly you came to be there."

"Spock," Jim said, "you really know how to put a man on the spot."

Spock merely lifted an eyebrow.

"What about me?" griped McCoy. "I'm stuck in this too!"

"Bones, you don't understand."

"What's there to understand? That crazy loon is going to extremes because I held his hand when I was _dying!_"

"You really shouldn't have held his hand."

"I repeat, I WAS DYING!"

"Spock has sensitive hands."

"Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I did, and this still isn't going to work."

Leonard puffed up. "Are you saying you can't kiss me?"

"Not if you're yelling at me."

"You made me yell when I was the one being perfectly rational! You know one little kiss isn't going to kill either of us."

"Speak for yourself. I'm dying here!"

Their argument continued to escalate until Spock stood up from his chair to broker a truce. That's when Jim and Leonard grabbed their unsuspecting victim and dragged him under the archway too.

The three of them—Kirk, Spock, and McCoy—stood there beneath the mistletoe and stared at one another.

"Checkmate," said Jim.

Leonard huffed. "Now we're all in trouble."

Spock echoed, "Indeed."

**The End**


End file.
